


Cliché

by nztina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nztina/pseuds/nztina
Summary: Draco Malfoy decides to rom-com his proposal.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47
Collections: Dramione Valentine Exchange





	Cliché

**Author's Note:**

  * For [articcat621](https://archiveofourown.org/users/articcat621/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneValentineExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneValentineExchange) collection. 



> I hope you enjoy this little fic, articcat621!
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing it. Happy Valentine's Day!

“Thank you for tonight. I’m really glad it was just dinner.”

Draco pulled away from Hermione’s embrace, amusement lacing the frown on his face. “Just dinner?”

His girlfriend shrugged, and he was unsure if the pink on her cheeks was from the cold night air or embarrassment.

“You _know_.”

“I know…?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Everyone was telling me that I should be prepared for a proposal—” she cut herself off, eyes wide. “Not that I’m expecting a proposal, of course, because we haven’t even discussed that and I’m not trying to insinuate that…I’m getting distracted.”

Draco tucked an errant curl behind Hermione’s ear and smiled down at her. “What were you going to say?”

“Well,” she breathed out, tipping forward to bury her nose against Draco’s sweater-clad sternum, “you remember how Rolf asked Luna to marry him on Valentine’s two years ago?” At his nod, she continued. “Don’t you think it was tacky? I mean, it was so cliché, right?”

She looked up at him and found him staring back, unblinking.

“Uh, yes.” He cleared his throat with a stifled cough. “Cliché.”

Hermione slipped her hand back around Draco’s waist and tugged him into motion. They walked up the drive to their townhouse while snow fell around them.

“Granger?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve planned this out really badly.” He swiped a hand down his face. “Look, I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room, so would you mind going into the kitchen when we get in? I just need to do some last minute adjustments.”

She wrinkled her nose, but nodded. “Sure.”

They arrived at the front door and Draco fished a hand into his coat pocket to find the keychain Hermione had gifted to him for the second anniversary of their first date. He pulled out the miniature broomstick figurine attached to the key and unlocked the door.

As part of their reparations after the war, both mother and son of the Malfoy household had to give up magic for an extended period of time until the Minister saw fit to revoke their ban. After two years without a wand, Draco had become more and more reliant on the Muggle lifestyle he had once scorned. Now, five years later, he was the polar opposite to the boy who had belittled Muggleborns at Hogwarts.

Every so often, Hermione would bite her tongue to stop herself reminding him that he could use magic to complete the task he was doing by hand.

They stepped into the foyer and Hermione levitated their outer robes into the coat closet, the garments drying off as they obediently draped themselves on hangers. She watched as Draco hurried into the lounge, waving his wand at the doors that smacked shut behind him.

Hermione kicked off her boots and walked towards the kitchen, her socks padding softly against the hardwood floor. As she reached the island in the middle of the room, she heard a crash and a muffled curse.

“Is everything alright in there?”

“ _YES_!” came an immediate, desperate reply. “ _Don’t come in!_ ”

Hermione paused, waiting, and when no more noises came from the lounge, she went to the fridge to pour herself a glass of wine.

There was a pop, and she spun to see Narcissa’s elf standing in front of her, blinking her wide, worried eyes.

“I is saying evening to you, Miss.”

Hermione smiled. “Good evening, Lula.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, also, Miss. Mistress is saying that I tell you _'Happy Valentine’s Day’_.”

“Oh! That’s nice, thank you. Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, Lula.”

The little elf tilted her head to the side, and Hermione spied a small pink bow tucked behind her ear. She was bedecked in a dress made entirely out of heart-shaped patches.

“Can I do something for you, Lula? Did Narcissa want Draco? Or does she need to speak to me?”

Lula frowned, before she started wringing her hands, nervously. It was her tell. “I is…” she started. “I is waiting for Master Draco sir. For…”

“Yes?”

“For Master Draco to cough.”

“Sorry?” Hermione set down her glass on the counter. “Why is Draco supposed to cough?”

The elf glanced over in the direction of the lounge. “I is…”

“Lula, please tell me what is happening. Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it?” Hermione spoke gently so she didn’t spook the sweet elf. “Something’s been planned by Draco and it’s gone wrong, am I correct? Is that why you’re here? Is that why he was so panicked before?"

Lula squeaked out a broken wail before covering her ears and shaking her head. Hermione wrangled the elf’s hands into her own grip before she could do something to hurt herself. “Lula is naughty elf, Miss. Lula and Mistress is waitings with champagne at Manor.”

“Champagne?”

“Master is telling Lula to wait in kitchen for cough. Master is coughing when Miss says—” Lula broke off, her eyes bulging out in horror. Hermione let go of her.

“Lula?”

Suddenly, there was a bang as the living room door swung open and Draco came skidding into the kitchen. “Lula! I forgot!”

Hermione rose to her feet, hands on her hips. “Draco, what exactly is going on here? Why is Lula about to pass out from stress?” She gestured to the trembling elf.

Draco froze. “Nothing.”

“What did you do?”

He swept a hand through his hair, features taught with panic. “Something happened in there,” he gestured out into the hallway, “and I’m just dealing with it now. It’s fine. Lula, go home. Tell Mother it’s a Code Silver.”

Before Hermione could stop her, Lula disappeared into thin air. “Okay,” she whirled around, “if you’re not going to tell me, then I’m going to find out.”

She pushed past Draco, breaking into a run so he couldn’t grab her. She was barely into the living room when an arm clamped around her waist in an attempt to pull her back, but it was too late.

In their living room stood at least fifty vases filled with chrysanthemums of every colour, one vase lying broken on the floor in a puddle of water. Fairy lights were strung up against the walls and the record player Harry and Ginny had gifted Draco for his twenty-fifth birthday was playing “Higher and Higher” by Jackie Wilson. There was a pile of confetti sitting on her favourite armchair, and it looked like Draco had been attempting to collect all of the rose petals that were scattered on the floor in what was now a very sparse, haphazard heart shape.

“Draco, oh my God.”

“Hermione, it’s honestly—,”

“Were you going to propose tonight?”

There was a silence, and Hermione spun in her boyfriend’s arms, holding onto them like he was going to disappear without notice. His cheeks were red.

“I’m so sorry.”

Hermione’s heart dropped and tears pricked in her eyes at the mournful look on his face. “Whatever for?”

“For being so tacky and—and cliché!” Draco groaned, but Hermione reached up, her palms cupping his jaw. “You literally just said you didn’t want that.”

“ _No_!” she said, “don’t be silly, I was just saying that because I was feeling a bit sad. You know?”

“Sad?”

“Everyone in the world is getting married and having kids, and…I hoped—I mean, I thought you might propose at dinner, but then that couple at the table next to ours got engaged right there, and you looked so put out by it. So…I said what I said to put you at ease, but obviously, I misread your reaction—”

“I had planned it so far back, and I’m afraid I didn’t even stop to consider that you would think it to be in bad taste.”

“Stop, darling.” Hermione shook her head. “Stop. I ruined it. All your beautiful work, and I had to go and mess it up by saying it was tacky to get engaged on Valentine’s Day. I’m the one who’s sorry.” She sighed. “I ruined your lovely proposal like a complete fool.”

“Don’t,” he mumbled, a hand snaking into her curls. “You deserve a better proposal than this one, anyway. It should be more special. I was so stupid thinking it would be a good idea. That’s what I get for listening to your friends.”

“You asked for their advice?” She couldn’t help the note of surprise in her voice. He smiled, a little sadly, before shrugging.

“I wanted to ask your father for permission, because that’s how we do things. But _your_ father…” he trailed off, grimacing, and Hermione ignored the painful sting in her heart. Her parents were still in Australia, blithely unaware that they had a daughter. “But I couldn’t, so Mother agreed that Potter and Weasley were the next best thing.”

“You asked them for my hand?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I know you disapprove of such things, but I needed their permission, Hermione. I needed your family to give me their blessing. Then Ginny said I needed to make it a really special gesture, so I watched that Gilmore Girls show you like, and I thought it would be a good idea to propose like the man does in that one bit, you know? With the flowers?”

Tears threatened to blur Hermione’s vision so she tugged Draco down into a slow, soft kiss. When he pulled away with uncertainty on his face, she shook her head, smiling.

“Draco,” she whispered to him, “you could propose to me in front of a crowd of people, or on a mountaintop, or even in the boy’s Quidditch changing rooms at Hogwarts, and my answer would be the same as it would be if you ask me right now.”

His eyes flickered up to meet hers, a spark of hope lighting them ablaze. “Really?”

Hermione nodded. “Really.” Stepping away, she took a quick glance around the room. “Now, do you need me to go out again so you can fix everything or…?”

Draco shook his head, tugging her back into his arms.

“You’ve seen it already.”

Hermione grinned. “I have.”

“Okay, then.” Draco pressed a quick kiss to her lips before stepping away. He sank down on one knee, whispered a quick Accio and held out his palm as a box came zooming into the room. “Sorry, this is going to sound a bit rehearsed, because I’ve been practicing since last month.”

“I’m ready for it.”

“Hermione Jean Granger, the greatest pride of—”

“Draco? Hermione? What’s happened? Have you done it yet, Draco? Can I bring the Champagne over, or not?”

Draco groaned, and they both turned to see Narcissa walking into the room. She froze, mid-step.

“ _Mother_!”

She gasped, picked up the skirts of her robes, and backed out the door.“I’m _so_ terribly sorry, my darlings,” she apologised, before disappearing around the corner. “Please continue.”

The door shut and Hermione turned back to Draco, who looked more exasperated than she had ever seen him.

“After this is over,” he said, through gritted teeth, “I’m resetting all the wards on our house. No one gets to pop over like that anymore.”

“ _Anyway…_ ”

“Right,” Draco shifted uncomfortably on his knee. He opened the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring surrounded by dark red rubies. “Hermione Jean Granger, the greatest pride of my life to this point is being loved by you. Every new day, I love you more than the one before. I used to think that money and reputation were the most important things in life, but it turns that the only thing I need is you by my side. I cannot imagine spending a day of my life without you. Will you please do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Hermione’s legs gave way as she fell to her knees in front of Draco, clutching at his hands.

“Yes, Draco,” she breathed, tears streaming down her face. “Absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent yes.”

He slipped the ring onto her finger, and they laughed when they realised that both their hands were shaking.

“I love you,” Hermione whispered. “So much.”

“I love you, too,” Draco replied, and Hermione brushed a tear from his cheek. 

“Now,” she said, “shall we go and see your mother before she and Lula try to come back again?”

Draco grimaced. “I have a better idea.”

“Yeah?”

He stood, pulling her up with him. Withdrawing his wand and waving it rapidly around the room, he cast heavy warding charms in quick succession underneath his breath. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Draco, we can’t just leave them hanging like that.”

“Oh, no. We most definitely can. They can celebrate tomorrow.” Draco pocketed his wand and swept Hermione’s legs from under her, _Apparating_ them to the bedroom. “You and I are celebrating tonight. _Privately_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
